


angel of small death

by takethebreadsticksandRUN



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Forgive Me, Kissing, M/M, and getting pinned against a wall, and i blacked out and wrote this, anyway, consensually of course, he lowkey has a thing for jon?, i am ace and unsure of how kissing really works, i have no excuses guys i'm sorry okay, i just saw a prompt that said "something something pinned against a wall", i love you so much, just kissing, like not fully realized but tim would definitely rope them all into a polycule, might screw around later and add more to it idk, no sex tho, polyarchives rights possibly?, the "timothy stoker gets pegged" playlist lives in my mind rent free, the consent is very sexy, the inherent romantacism of surprising your very strong coworker, those two statements coexist peacefully but are unrelated, tim is pining for sasha but in his own special way, whoever made that if you're out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN
Summary: As luck would have it, Sasha happened to be walking down the hall at that moment, looking at something on her phone. Tim quickly slipped out of the room and crept toward her, taking extra care not to let his feet make a sound. He laid a hand on her elbow and said, in a gravelly voice, “Hello there, Ms. James.”In a split second, she grabbed his wrist and spun out of his hold, pushing him backward simultaneously. Before he knew what had happened, Sasha had him pinned against the wall, one hand locking his arm down, the other elbow pressed against his windpipe.ORlook guys i am 1000% sure sasha would be a top and tim is a switch. not that it really matters, but here, enjoy some kissing and banter.
Relationships: Implied Tim Stoker/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 59





	angel of small death

**Author's Note:**

> why hello there! i am aware i should be working on my au! responding to comments! cleaning! homework! but i could not help myself, so here is some timsasha with a microscopic portion of pining!martin and the barest hint at an eventual archives polycule. i blushed writing this guys i do NOT normally write something so- ig you would call it steamy? but not really? i just write fluff and that's it. i do not know how to kiss ppl i hope i did a good job.  
> please let me know what you think!  
> xxx

Tim was not a stealthy man by nature. No, his talents lay elsewhere, namely in the field of luck-based card games, much to the dismay of his friends. But creeping around corners and walking silently was the exact opposite of what he normally wanted to do. Quiet as a mouse is _not_ a way to make an entrance, in his opinion. Those frequently around him associated cheerful whistling or the sound of confident steps with his presence.

So to have the tables turn one day was an experience he was _not_ expecting to have. Tim supposed it must have something to do with his new shoes, perhaps he was just thinking soft thoughts as he entered the Institute.

Whatever it was, Rosie jumped about a mile when he greeted her.

“Saints _above,_ Tim, don’t sneak up on me like that!” she protested, gathering up the pens and tapping them back into her holder.

He raised his hands placatingly. “Sorry, didn’t realize it.”

“No harm done.” Rosie smiled and he winked.

“Have a good day!” Tim called over his shoulder as he left the lobby.

It was a little strange, but nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, he might of put it entirely out of his mind, had Jon not reacted the same way when Tim knocked on his doorframe. Jon looked up with an expression not unlike a startled cat, swearing under his breath.

“…can’t catch a break…” he muttered, glaring up at him halfheartedly from his desk.

Tim grinned. “Hiya, bossman, how goes the statement-ing this lovely morning?”

“Fine,” he said primly, trying to cover the fact he had almost yelped a few seconds ago. “And I’ve told you not to call me that, as I’m not technically-“

“My boss,” Tim finished. “Yeah, yeah, I know. _But_ you secretly love it, don’t you?”

Jon flushed a little and stammered incoherently.

Turning to leave, he blew a kiss over his shoulder, heading to the room where Martin sat working across from Tim’s desk. He plopped down in his chair with a groan.

“Time to start archiving or whatever we’re supposed to be doing down here…”

Martin knocked over his mug, spilling the tea on his lap. “Tim! Where did you come from?”

He rolled his eyes. “Really, I swear you lot are going _deaf_ , Rosie and Jon both freaked out when I came in.”

“Maybe, just maybe,” he said, standing and reaching for the paper towels, “You scared the living daylights out of them. Just a thought, you didn’t make a sound when you came in. Go easy on Jon, will you? He’s had a stressful week.” Martin dabbed at his trousers, trying to sop up the spreading stain, not looking at Tim.

He let the comment slide, deciding it would be a little mean to tease him about his crush when he was head over heels for a coworker as well. “You know,” Tim mused, spinning in his chair, “You might have a point. Then if I add you to the list, if I can scare Sasha I’ll have got you all.”

“What about Elias?”

Tim retched, pretending to vomit. “Elias Bouchard? Stinky slimy capitalist rat man? Even hearing his _name_ is such an awful experience. I don’t count him as a real person, as I’m ninety percent sure he’s some sort of demonic fae creature come to punish me for my sins.”

Martin snorted. “Yeah, that tracks. I don’t blame you, he’s terrible.” He sat back down, pulling a stack of statements toward himself. “Well, back to filing, I suppose.”

Tim watched him for half a minute before getting to his feet. “I’m going to surprise Sasha on her way in,” he said decidedly. “No way am I getting anything done without a little bit of fun to lighten the soul-crushing work of throwing out drunk stories about haunted park benches and whatnot.”

“Hmm, I thought it was a picnic table,” Martin mused, not looking up. “You do that, but don’t blame me when she judo-flips you onto the floor.”

Tim laughed. “Will do, Marto, will do.”

As luck would have it, Sasha happened to be walking down the hall at that moment, looking at something on her phone. Tim quickly slipped out of the room and crept toward her, taking extra care not to let his feet make a sound. He laid a hand on her elbow and said, in a gravelly voice, “Hello there, Ms. James.”

In a split second, she grabbed his wrist and spun out of his hold, pushing him backward simultaneously. Before he knew what had happened, Sasha had him pinned against the wall, one hand locking his arm down, the other elbow pressed against his windpipe.

“Ah, Tim, it’s just you,” she said, unphased. “Thought you were Elias or one of his creepy bastard friends.”

He just looked at her with wide eyes, unable to speak. She laughed, easing up on his throat so he could breathe. She did not, however, let him go, and Tim was struck with several realizations at once.

Even without her blocking his windpipe, he could not breathe. The air around him was thick with some sort of tension, made even more present by his helplessness. Sasha was at least an inch taller than him but that inch felt like miles as she towered over him, grinning. They were very, _very_ close right now.

Yes, they were good friends. Yes, Sasha James had him, Timothy Stoker, _pinned_ against a _wall_. Yes, this was not going the way he had expected it to. No, he wasn’t complaining.

“Uhhh,” he said, articulately, trying to regain control of his heartbeat. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of green, he noted, dancing somewhere between hazel and evergreen with flecks of gold.

She laughed. “Cat got your tongue?” she said, her voice soft and teasing.

He shook his head, feeling her hand tighten on his wrist. “Not…exactly…” he managed. “It’s just-“ he tried weakly, feeling her shift closer to him.

_Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no he couldn’t be thinking that not now not with Sasha not now no no no-_

“You know, I rather like seeing you like this,” she said thoughtfully.

“Like what?” Tim might be in a rather, er, _uncompromising_ situation, but he was still curious. Possibly even more so. He caught his mind wandering in previously unexplored areas, wondering what it would feel like if she were to lean in and-

_Stop it._

Sasha planted one hand firmly against the wall just above his shoulder. “Flustered-“ She leaned in. “Helpless-“ She whispered in his ear, “It’s rather attractive, you know.”

“Sasha,” Tim said, verging on a whine. “Stop teasing.” His gaze flicked to her lips then back up to her eyes.

“Or what?”

“I might do something stupid.”

Sasha grinned. “You are the master of stupid decisions, Tim, I’m sure one more couldn’t hurt.”

Tim’s heart was beating so fast he was sure she could hear it, sure she was close enough to tell how nervous she made him, sure she was enjoying it. He had never seen her like this, so sure of herself. Or maybe he had never felt like this before, completely at her mercy, his head empty of any thoughts he could comfortably voice out loud.

_She’s right. What’s one more bad idea? Add it to the list of things I’ll regret tomorrow._ “Let me go,” he tried half-heartedly.

She shook her head, eyes bright. “Only if you want me to, Stoker. Five seconds.” Sasha leaned in, giving him the chance to decide if he wanted this, if he _really_ wanted this. “Four.” She was _so, so_ close. “Three.” Her voice was soft, he could feel her breath against his skin. “Two.” He couldn’t breathe couldn’t move couldn’t think- “One.”

He really, really wanted to kiss her. “Yes, please,” he said breathlessly. Sasha ducked her head and pressed her lips against his, warm and soft.

Oh. _Oh._ He had kissed people before, sure, but this was something new. This was letting somebody else take control, receiving instead of giving, tangling one hand in her hair and letting the other slide to her waist while she gently nudged him further against the wall.

Something that had started out so gentle quickly turned passionate, Tim pressing into the kiss as much as he could, Sasha’s hand slipping from his wrist to the back of his neck, simultaneously cradling him and keeping him where he was. She tilted her head, kissing him forcefully, tongues meeting teeth meeting lips-

Tim felt like his every nerve was on fire, memorizing the sensation of Sasha pressed against him. She pulled back and he huffed impatiently, trying to follow her, but she kissed down from his jaw to his neck, pressing patterns into his skin that told so many stories of wanting and waiting.

Normally, Tim was in her position, so to be on the receiving end of affection like this-

Well, he didn’t know quite what to do.

Time and space lost all meaning as she kissed him on the mouth again, swallowing his small moan with a soft noise of her own. Sasha smiled against his lips and he let out a helpless laugh.

Much, much later, and altogether too soon in his opinion, they broke apart, breathing heavily. Sasha stepped back, smiling, her lips red and kiss-swollen. Tim swallowed. “Uh, that was- wow.”

She just laughed at him. “Don’t sneak up on me next time!”

“If that’s what happens when I surprise you, I might do it more often.”

Sasha tutted. “Cheeky, cheeky.” She turned and started to walk down the hall, clearly intending to return to business as usual, leaving Tim a blushing mess behind her.

He watched her back for a moment before coming to a decision. “Wait- Sasha!”

She stopped and spun to face him, still grinning. “Yeah?” 

“Do you- I mean would you like to- that is to say- how would you- ah, screw it, Sasha, will you go on a date with me?”

“Took you long enough,” she smirked, “Of course I will, you dummy.”

He laughed, unbelievably happy at her words. “Great, great…uh, I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good. Seven?”

“Y-yeah. Seven.”

Sasha started walking backward. “Can’t wait.”

Regaining some of his dignity, he shot finger guns at her. As soon as she vanished into Jon’s office, he hurried back to his desk and collapsed into his chair.

“Did Sasha beat you up, or something?” Martin asked, not looking up.

“You could say that.”

Tim turned on his laptop, smiling to himself. Seven couldn’t come fast enough.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have the time, i would love to hear from you!!!  
> title from the hozier song "The Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene" which i listened to on repeat while writing this.


End file.
